People Will Beat You
by MatveyJeevas
Summary: "He was sweet in the beginning, but there is something wrong with him and the reindeer... Hans was right, thinks Anna miserably. Hans was right about nobody loving her." Anna feels more and more upset that Kristoff is unwilling to marry her. She has no idea what his history is. Based on Kristoff's song ("Reindeer(s) are Better Than People"). End result differs from original idea.


She notices it slowly at first, like storm clouds collecting for rain, but never quite exploding before they dissipate, never to be seen again. He was sweet in the beginning, but there is something wrong with him and the reindeer. Not wrong, shall we say, but _off_. Yes, something _off_ about him and the reindeer.

"Can I kiss you?"

He asks every time.

In the winter, during the time he collects ice as the official Arendelle Ice Master and Deliverer, she feels relief. He takes his time away from the castle, only coming back every few nights with a sleigh full of giant ice blocks, then leaving again before first light. But as the snow melts and the sun begins to shine, he begs Queen Elsa to give him a cold room, "Please, Your Highness, I just need to feel cold." But when Anna looks into the keyhole she can see him shivering under every blanket they have provided.

"Excuse me," he will say, "Um… pardon me. I'm sorry." There is something in his face, perhaps the little downturn of the lips or the eyebrows knitted together, that flash of doubt, that Anna sees and she hates it. He's so polite to the people but he does not see the kindness in their eyes. She hates it.

"Don't you trust _anybody_?" Anna asks him one summer night as they stroll through the gardens.

His smile _looks_ genuine. "I trust you. I mean— I don't trust you not to make yourself look like an idiot, but I _trust_ you. Of course." And then he does that cute little laugh.

She wants to kick him. "Why do you turn everything into a _joke_, Kristoff?"

Kristoff purses his lips out of the smile. "Well I'm sorry," he mutters, and then mutters more but she doesn't know if it's even English. Impossible. They stop near the fountain where the water cascades in a spiral. Elsa froze it after it was installed at the result was beautiful. Now, it flows freely and ripples.

"Kiss me," Anna says. Kristoff looks alarmed; there's no time for questions. They are in the courtyard, with flowers blooming and dying as well. Two years ago exactly, these same summer flowers had been frozen alive. Nobody is around. There isn't even a summer breeze to disturb them. Pale moonlight tickles the petals of the unmoving flowers. "Kiss me," Anna repeats, and she kisses him.

His breath smells like carrots and lilacs, tastes like warmth. Anna keeps mint leaves in her pocket so that she can eat them every few hours, and it is all for Kristoff. _It's true love_, she reminds herself, as she presses her body up again his strong chest.

"Anna," he breathes, breathless, up at the sky as she works her way down to his neck.

"I love you," she tells him. "I mean it. Do you trust me?"

"Anna…"

"Don't you trust me? I love you." She does. That's what this hickey is for.

"Stop," he whispers. "Stop. Stop."

His request is so endearing. "I love you." She can see the lipstick stains smeared down his jugular. Kristoff is such a puppy, frozen like this. He may have been raised by love experts, but he's no _love_ expert. No proposal; not more than gentle kisses for two years; she wants more, _more_…!

"Come on, Kristoff, don't be such a baby…" she says into his ear, giving it a teasing nibble. She takes his hand and puts it on her breast. He shivers and suddenly, he isn't frozen anymore. Anna almost falls onto her ass when he shoves her away, abrupt and wide-eyed. She seethes at the rejection.

"I said _stop_, Anna," he articulates very clearly. Anna rights herself from the push and straightens her back like a princess ought to stand. His expression is guiltless.

"Good night, Kristoff."

And in the morning, Olaf the Living Snowman sees the sleeplessness under Anna's eyes and he asks her, very kindly, what the problem is, and she kicks his snowy stomach and turns the other direction. Olaf is immortal and he doesn't feel pain, but she can't help the shame she feels as she leaves him knocked apart in the castle halls. What happened last night? What was wrong with Kristoff? Something had to be wrong; _something_. _Something. _The mistrust in his eyes even as he told her he trusted her; the joke he had made, perhaps to mask the truth; how he asked her to stop; how he was frozen to the spot; the violent shove.

_He doesn't love me anymore,_ Anna reasons. _He doesn't even like me. We're never getting married_.

She hates this thought with all her might. The bubbling hotness in her cheeks sends tears to ruin her makeup. Anna heads back for her room, and all she can think about is Hans. Hans, the sweet green-eyed man who taught her how to distrust somebody. Him and his stupid sideburns. Anna hopes he's rotting in prison.

She sits at her desk and starts to go through some paperwork, letters from faraway kingdoms with invitations to parties and little boxes of chocolate that wash away the carrot taste from her tongue. Elsa forbids them from traveling by sea because of what happened to their parents. Anna has been to very few parties. She savors the dark taste of cocoa and adds mint leaves on top.

Anna has never asked Kristoff why he was raised by trolls. There _has_ to be a reason. Sometimes she comes with him to visit them, and they try to get them married, but Kristoff always laughs and says that it's not the right time. It gives her hope but after the fourth time he's said it, she wonders if it will _ever_ be the time. She wonders how long she will be able to bear children.

_You're not a prince,_ Anna wants to tell him, and she finds herself whispering it now. "You're not a prince. But I love you… Elsa will give us her blessing _when the time is right_. Kristoff… when is the time right?"

Kristoff and Sven often go to bed early together, and Anna stays up late with the trolls telling fun stories about the time Kristoff fell into the lake and had to battle a giant squid to get out— or the time he was swinging from the top of a short cliff on thick roots over a field of flowers that hadn't bloomed yet, but already made the whole area smell sweetly. The trolls tell stories about Kristoff's childhood. He used to use carving tools in the winter to shape ice into the face of his mother.

"He's an artist," said a little troll. "His ice sculptures look exactly like Bulda!"

They told so many stories, but she had never actually heard where Kristoff and Sven came from. Come to think of it— she had never asked. In her mind, the pair had just always been with trolls until moving into a little hut in the middle of the forest, occasionally visiting with blocks of ice that the tiny trolls liked to slide around on. Then he met Anna and received lodging in the castle. Not anywhere near Anna's room, though, and with all the guards after midnight, Anna knows that Elsa has a sneaking suspicion of illegitimacy. Unfortunately, Kristoff isn't exactly up for illegitimacy.

_Hans was right_, thinks Anna miserably. Hans was right about nobody loving her. Elsa loves her, of course, and she always will, but Kristoff's stunt last night is the last straw. Anna opens her drawer and pulls out a quill and some parchment. She swiftly addresses a letter to the Royal Scheduler, Pierre, to organize a ball for princes from kingdoms that wish to unite with Arendelle through marriage to the young princess (and maybe Elsa could learn to love, or even trust, some gentleman).

Anna pours sand over the letter slowly. She can see in her mind a little blond baby, but as she stands the parchment up and watches the sand fall to the desk's mahogany surface, the baby disappears. Its laugh does not echo.

She folds the letter into an envelope and stacks her boxes of chocolate neatly. It is nearly lunchtime; Kristoff will be there and help her determine whether or not she should actually give Pierre the letter. Anna brushes and braids her hair before making an appearance outside of her bedroom. The halls are empty and chilly. She puts her hand over her stomach and imagines the blond baby one more time.


End file.
